


i'll pick you up

by badtemperblue



Series: ida accidentally thinks about muke [3]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: (muke r occasional making out buddies in this), (yay fun), Depression, Fluff, I have no regrets, KEYWORD FOR THSI FIC IS 'LONGING' ok, M/M, Michael's very sad and Luke's there, idk what to tag but i know i need to stop rambling in here, im laughing so hard, luke fixes him, michael thinks hes broken, rated teen for mention of grinding and language. u know just 2 b sure, this is weird and im sorry, yes its one of THOSE fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-23 23:18:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2559440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badtemperblue/pseuds/badtemperblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been five minutes since he got there and this is not going according to plan, they’re supposed to be making out by now. They usually are. Luke usually knows exactly what Michael needs and at three am it’s always slow kisses and soft grinding.</p><p>or: michael's kinda homesick so he goes to luke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'll pick you up

**Author's Note:**

> thank you @merlypops for being a glorious beta and a glorious friend xxxx (idk if u can link/mention users in the notes and if u can idk how to do it oopsa) 
> 
> the title has nothing to do with the fic as per usual. when am i gonna learn to name my fics relevant things???
> 
> come talk 2 me at boytoyash.tumblr.com if any of u feel like ay :)

Michael is spending all his time these days longing, it seems. He longs for home, for his family and friends who aren’t constantly around. The guys are great, of course they are. Always there for him. Arms open, up for a cuddle twenty four-seven, but they’re just- that’s the _thing_. There’s only so many dimpled smiles a guy can take a day before he goes crazy, and sometimes Michael just wants to yell at Calum to like, shut up, because he’s literally  _always_ talking, goddamnit!

So yeah, he longs for his friends at home and for the familiarity of his old room, complete with polka-dot spotted bed sheets and memories of recording their shitty covers and dusty bookshelves filled with comics and old school books that won’t ever be read again. He longs for his parents food and, hell, he even longs for his goddamned _curfew_ (which, to be honest, wasn’t ever really needed. but still).

His brand new gaming laptop does take some of the shitty feeling of _wrong place, wrong time_ away, not only because it’s, y’know, new and shiny, but also because it means Michael can lock himself up in whatever hotel they’re staying at for the night and talk to people who aren’t ridiculously tall and who don’t wear black skinny jeans every single day of the week. Talking to these people is nice, partly because they don’t care who the fuck Michael is, they’ll still kick his ass at League of Legends (which Michael admittedly is utter crap at), and partly because they make him so frustrated he forgets about all the other things he longs for.

Things like peace and calm and actually wanting to go outside for a change. Things like feeling okay- no, actually, better than okay: good. _Shit_ , how badly he wants to just fucking feel _good_.

Michael doesn’t remember how it feels to be, like, truly happy, is the thing, and it’s kind of eating away at him a little. Sure, he still gets a rush every time he’s up on stage, but honestly, even that’s changed. It doesn’t quite feel the same as it used to anymore. And he longs for the old feeling of being alive and of being free and of being able to do whatever the heck he wants to, and he wants everything to go back to what it used to be and that’s _just it_.

Michael figures he doesn’t really actually want to be famous anymore because fuck, it’s exhausting and the last time he was this tired was years ago when he was in a very, very bad place and he really does _not_ want to go back to that and _fuck_.

He might just lose it.

 

Michael blinks and finds himself outside tall band member number one’s hotel room at three in the morning, dressed in self-loath and his very saddest, oversized sweater – the white-beige-ish one that sags off his shoulders and makes him look very small and very fragile. Michael prays this is the look that will make Luke pity him enough to let him in because he can’t bear being alone right now. Not now when he’s longing for literally fucking _everything_ , longing so hard he thinks he’s going to _break_.

Luke would let him in no matter how he looks, of course. That’s just the way Luke is, but Michael still feels the need to make himself look as small as he possibly can and the tears that threaten to spill are simply for manipulating purposes, he swears. They’re so fake. He’s so fake. Oh god.

Michael knocks again and steps back. It’s been five minutes since he got there and this is not going according to plan, they’re supposed to be making out by now. They usually are. Luke usually knows exactly what Michael needs and at three am it’s always slow kisses and soft grinding.

He picks up his phone and opens up his and Luke’s conversation, types quickly, and hits send.  
  
 **To: Luke H.**  
 **[3:34 am]**  
 _hey where are you_  
  
To his defence, Luke answers almost immediately:  
  
 **From: Luke H.**  
 **[3:38 am]**  
 _im out_ (and like, _no shit_ )  
  
 _why? u okay?_  
  
 **To: Luke H.**  
 **[3:38 am]**  
 _im fine sorry_  
  
 **From: Luke H.**  
 **[3:40 am]**  
 _ill b there in 20 ok_

And okay, so Michael has to smile at that. He sits down with his back against the hotel door and imagines Luke rushing through the city from whatever club he’s been at to get to Michael. In Michael’s head Luke doesn’t take a cab; he’s wearing a cape and he flies all the way back, one arm stretched out in front of him and he’s just like batman. Except not. He’s, ha, he’s Dr Fluke. And Michael is his goddamned damsel in distress and the rest of the world is the villain and there’s gonna be a big fight and then they’ll live happily ever after and okay, there’s a thing he didn’t know he longed for until now.

Dr Fluke arrives at **[3:55 am]** sharp, key card clenched in his fist and slightly out of breath, like he actually _did_ fly all the way there.  He flops down next to Michael and smiles.  “Hey.”

“Hey. You didn’t have to – like, you could’ve stayed. At- wherever you were. I could’ve managed” – and like, no, Michael totally _couldn’t_ have. But Luke’s a good friend and Michael has to at least try to be one back.

“Yeah, well, I’m here now. Was at a party, ’s boring. Missed you anyway.” Luke nudges him. “You wanna go inside?”

  
Later, when Michael’s explained to Luke about all the longing and about feeling so wrong and so empty and “Luke, fuck. I think I’m _broken_?”, Luke sits him down on the freshly-made hotel room bed and has him taking his sweater off.

Michael thinks of two things as Luke plants himself in his lap. One of them is sex ( _sex. luke. sex + luke. sex with luke. wow_.) and the other one’s how bloody tired he is of freshly made beds. And there he goes again with the longing – this time it’s after messy beds that smell of sleep and chips and like someone’s actually _using_ them. Polka-dot spotted bed sheets, that’s what he wants.

 “I’ve forgotten what normal beds smell like,” he mutters. “I’m kinda pissed.”

Luke’s busy kissing Michael’s neck and answers by biting down softly and moving his hands to Michael’s hair. Michael moans and feels Luke grinning against the sensitive skin.

He realises then that he almost feels whole right then, that the only thing going on is the bed sheet thing and a slight tingling spreading through his entire body, starting where Luke’s attached to him by the lips. Michael sighs, content. He taps Luke on the back of his neck, making him draw back and look down with a frown.

“I long for _you_ ,” Michael whispers. “So much it hurts.”  
  
Luke smiles a little, pretty blue eyes lidded and questioning. “But I’m right here?”

Michael shakes his head and kisses him, because if Luke doesn’t get what he’s saying maybe he can _show him_ , and get him to understand that way that it’s not about distance. That it’s about Luke leaving the party just because Michael texted, about Dr Fluke and about Michael being very much in distress indeed and about them living happily ever after. It’s cheesy and horrible but Michael puts his entire self into this one kiss, kissing Luke carefully but with as much passion he can muster, so that when they pull back both of their lips are bright red and bruised and Luke sags against him.

“You don’t have to long for me,” Luke mumbles. “I thought you like- I thought you knew that.”

“Dude, I don’t even know my own _name_ sometimes.” It’s a joke but his voice quivers and he’s about to burst. Michael sees his childhood room before his eyes. Polka-dot spotted bed sheets. Luke spread out there, sleeping and drooling and keeping the sheets alive.

“Yeah, well. I’m yours, okay? I’m fucking yours.”

And Michael doesn’t think Luke’s ever been more beautiful than in that moment and he thinks he’s going to break again, but then Luke places his hand on his cheek and it’s all good.

He’s _good_. 

**Author's Note:**

> ive never written something this long and published it before oh wow. hope it wasnt complete shit, please comment and tell me what you thought if you feel like xx


End file.
